


The Cure for Nightmares

by IsMiseCeltic



Series: Where it All Began [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, Hudders is babysitting, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mary approves, Nightmares, Not sleeping so great, otp, toplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9521624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsMiseCeltic/pseuds/IsMiseCeltic
Summary: After the hug and birthday cake, Sherlock asks John and Rosie to stay at the flat with him overnight.





	

That first birthday together was so bittersweet. Sitting in the cake shop eating lemon cake (leave it to Sherlock to like lemon cake with lemon icing), remembering what had passed between us a few short hours before made me a bit giddy. Giddy was the problem. I shouldn’t be allowed to be happy now. Not for a long while, if ever. Mary was dead, how could I be happy?  
  
As I sat there surrounded by our friends, so close to Sherlock I could smell him, I kept reminding myself that I was in mourning. That I shouldn’t be laughing or having a great time. I just couldn’t seem to help it though because I could feel his warmth. It reached all the way to the deepest, coldest depths of me and it started a small fire there.  
  
Of course, we hadn’t told any of our friends what had happened between us before the birthday party. It was too new and too fresh and too ours for the moment, to want to share it with anyone. As a matter of fact, we really hadn’t discussed it between ourselves before we hurried out the door. I was sure there would need to be some talking at some point. That’s just the way Sherlock was. He likes to talk through everything.  
Finally, after a couple of hours of enjoying friends then reminding myself not to, we were all making our goodbyes at the door of the cake shop. Sherlock even kissed Molly on the cheek when she told him happy birthday for the third or fourth time. He really could be so sweet when he wanted to be.  
  
The original plan was for me to catch a cab back to my place where Rosie and the babysitter were waiting on me while Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson went back to Baker Street but just before we all parted ways Sherlock pulled me aside to whisper in my ear.  
  
“John, I know you’ve enjoyed being out today but I know you. You’ll go home and beat yourself up because you allowed yourself to smile. Wouldn’t you rather go pick up Rosie and both of you come stay at Baker street? You know you would both be welcome and your room is still just the way you left it. Please John?”  
  
I had to admit, staying at Baker Street was a damn sight more inviting than going home to my lonely flat. “Yes”, I said, “Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you very much”.  
  
“Of course, any time. You know you’ll always have a place at Baker Street”.  
  
My heart swelled a little to hear him say that. It did feel more like home there than anywhere else in my life ever had so it was very comforting to know that it would always be there if I wanted.  
  
Sherlock decided to ride with me to pick up Rosie so we hailed a cab and took the 10-minute trip over to my flat. He was completely silent for the entire trip. I was dying to know what he was thinking and almost asked him but stopped myself. Whatever was going on in his head was his and he would share it with me when and if he was ready.  
  
For my part, sitting there in complete silence, I replayed our time together earlier. I hoped that he was feeling the same thing as I. Even after several hours, my face still tingled from where Sherlock’s stubble had rubbed against me. I was genuinely hoping that he didn’t regret telling me how he felt. I don’t think I could survive if he told me it was a mistake.  
  
Forcing myself to push that thought away I realized we were pulling up to the flat. The cabbie parked right in front and I hopped out to run and grab Rosie and some of her things. I couldn’t help but be excited. She had never gotten to stay at Baker Street overnight and I was hoping that she would enjoy it. And honestly, I was also hoping that after she went to sleep Sherlock and I would have a chance to chat a bit.  
  
The ride back to Baker Street was lovely. Sherlock spent the time trying to teach Rosie to say his name. Of course, she’s much too young for that but she would coo and smile at him. She absolutely adored him which made me feel even worse for having been so angry at him. It had been far too long since she’d been able to spend time with him and I could tell she had missed him. For his part, I could tell that he adored her as well and had missed her terribly. God what a dick I was. How could I ever have been so awful to him?  
  
As we got out of the cab at 221B, Mrs. Hudson met us on the sidewalk. She took Rosie from Sherlock so that he could tote in Rosie’s travel cot. I grabbed her toys and bag of clothes and we all climbed the stairs to Sherlock’s flat. My stomach did a little dance as I re-entered the room where we had been holding each other so tightly just a few short hours before. I felt my skin flush just at the thought of it. Sherlock glanced at me then did a double take. He had obviously noticed the warmth in my face. Oh well, there was nothing for it. Hopefully he was feeling the same thing.  
  
God bless Mrs. Hudson, she always does seem to have the best timing. As I was standing there trying to figure out what to do about my red face, she interrupted asking, “John, why don’t you let me take Rosie for the night? You and Sherlock can catch up a bit more then you can get a good night’s sleep.” At first I thought this was a marvelous idea and agreed readily but once we had Rosie’s travel cot set up downstairs and I was walking back up to Sherlock’s flat I realized I was terrified. I just wasn’t sure I was ready to be alone with him again. What if he changed his mind? What if, after kissing me, he had decided he didn’t really want me after all? The enormity of the thought felt like it was crushing my chest. Oh god, I never should have told him how I felt.  
  
When I got back to the flat Sherlock was already in his dressing gown. He was wearing his royal blue one which had long been my favorite because of what it did to the color of his eyes. He was still bruised and broken and suffering withdrawals but something about his unkempt hair and stubble dazzled me when I looked at him. He truly was so very beautiful. He glanced up when I came in the door and I saw a quick smile pass over his lips. That sweet little lopsided smile he reserves for those times when he’s truly happy. It made my heart skip a beat.  
  
But then there was basically nothing. We chatted a bit over a cup of tea, discussed plans for the next day and then Sherlock yawned and suggested we go to bed. I didn’t really want to go to bed but I did have to admit I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept well since I lost Mary due to nightmares and I was hoping being back here at Baker Street would correct that.  
  
I was disappointed there was no more talk about us but then there was no retraction of what was said either so that couldn’t be all bad, right? So reluctantly I agreed it was time for bed and started clearing the tea from the living room. We passed very closely to one another while cleaning up and for one brief moment I could feel the electricity of him again. Then he moved on and the moment was gone.  
  
Ten minutes later I had stripped off and was lying in my old bed feeling quite at home. As I lay there though, doubts started to creep in. I remembered how I had been seeing and talking to Mary for weeks after she was killed. Hallucinating. What if it didn’t stop there? What if I had imagined what happened between Sherlock and me earlier in the day. It made sense considering nothing else was said about it and there was nothing specifically loving anywhere in the rest of the day. Oh god, what if I had imagined it? I didn’t know which would be worse, that Sherlock had said he loved me then changed his mind, or if he never said it at all. I felt a tear slide from my eye and make a trail down my check before falling on my pillow. It was with these thoughts streaming through my head that I fell asleep.  
  
The next thing I knew, I was sitting up in bed shouting, “NO!!!”, and flailing at the covers like a mad man. Sherlock was there trying to calm me and grab ahold of me to keep me from hurting myself. Somewhere from far away I heard his voice saying my name, heard him quietly speaking words of comfort. I finally settled down enough for him to get his arms around me and he held me tightly.  
  
“Breathe, John”, he said. “Just breathe. You’re alright, I’ve got you”.  
  
“I’m sorry Sherlock, I must have had a nightmare. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you”.  
  
“Shut-up you silly man. Like you can control your dreams. Are you ok?”  
  
“Yes, I’m fine. I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about now. I should be able to go back to sleep. Please, you go on back to your room.”  
  
He stroked my hair for just a moment then got up to leave. And I panicked. Completely and totally and beyond any reason. I couldn’t let him leave without knowing if I had imagined it all. Just as he was turning the door knob to leave, the words flew out of my mouth all at once, “Sherlock, did what happened between us this afternoon really happen? I thought it did but now I just don’t know anymore.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” he said, and my heart dropped all the way to my toes. I had imagined it and now not only did it not happen but I was going to have to make something up to answer the questioning look he was giving me. I bit my lip but in my mind the word Shit played over and over again. Just about the time I had worked up a full-on panic, Sherlock’s voice broke through the fog. “John, why on earth would you ask if it really happened? Of course, it happened!  
  
The relief upon hearing him say those words flooded through me and made me light headed. I had to lay my head down on my pillow to keep from falling over. Sherlock ran to my bed and sat on the edge, concern etched in the lines of his face.  
  
“John, are you alright? Please, tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
“Nothing, I’m fine. I just thought I had imagined it the way I had been imagining Mary the last few weeks,” and after a heartbeat I asked what I really needed to know. “You don’t regret telling me, do you?”  
  
“Not for a second! I couldn’t have held it in any longer if I had wanted to. It had become so big and insistent that it was all I thought about. In my drug-addled mind all I could see was your face. I longed to be near you so much it was a physical pain. I was so relieved when you said you would stay tonight. Even if we’re in different rooms, just knowing you’re in the flat is a comfort to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from you tonight after what happened between us today.”  
  
I thought about what he said for a few moments, just breathing in his presence, loving the feel of having him close. After a while I asked, “I don’t understand then, if you don’t regret it, why didn’t you say anything about it tonight? Why did you suggest we go to bed instead of talking?”  
  
“John, you know me better than that. I am so pathetically unversed in matters of the heart I had no idea how to go forward. What happened this afternoon happened so organically. Nothing was forced or hurried. The same did not seem to present itself this evening so when you didn’t bring it up either I, much like you apparently, began to worry that you regretted it. I suggested we go to bed because I needed to be alone with that hurt.”  
  
I remember the light from the hall was softly shining through the door that was open just a crack. It illuminated the side of Sherlock’s face and glinted in his curls. Again, I marked how beautiful he was. I reached out and traced his jawline with the back of my fingers and down his throat over his Adam’s apple. I had always loved to watch it bob up and down when he drank and now I found myself wanting to run my tongue over it and make him moan. As my hand continued its downward trek I suddenly realized that he was naked from the waist up. How could I have missed that?  
  
We’d lived together for a long time but I had seldom seen him shirtless. I sat up in the bed next to him and clicked on the light on the bedside table so I could get a better look. He was far thinner than he should have been due to weeks of drug use, but I could still see the muscles ripple in his arms. He was very pale and the track marks from using were still very visible, but that was no big surprise. It would take a while for his body to recover from the damage he’d done it. His hair was tousled and wild and the look in his blue eyes was almost dangerous. That look said he wanted me and it excited me as much as it terrified me.  
  
I had never even considered being with another man. Never. I was straight! But none of that mattered with Sherlock. I never have been able to figure out what it is about him but the lines of sexuality don’t matter one damn bit where he’s concerned. I wasn’t just ready to cross them, I was ready to obliterate them if it meant being with him. He’s Sherlock and with him, it is what it is.  
  
Turns out what it was was a burning desire to have him. And to my great surprise I knew that I wanted him inside me. I had had sex before. I knew what it was to penetrate. With Sherlock I wanted to be penetrated. I wanted him to make me his in every possible way. The only problem then was how to communicate that to him.  
  
I had absolutely no knowledge whatever of the mechanics of making love to another man. Would it hurt? Would Sherlock even agree to take me in that way? Maybe if we agreed to take turns? And then I felt Sherlock’s hand on my shoulder, drawing me back to him. For a moment, I had gotten lost in thought and apparently, I had missed what he was saying to me.  
  
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”  
  
“I was asking what I could do. What do you need? How can I comfort you and help you sleep?” Sherlock answered.  
  
“I don’t know Sherlock. Basically, I know what I want but I have no idea how to ask for it or if you are willing to give it. And even if you are, I don’t know if I’m ready to voice it just yet. Could you just lie here with me and hold me for a while? I just need to feel the warmth of your skin.”  
  
He didn’t speak another word, just pulled back the covers and climbed in. I had forgotten I was naked until exactly that moment. I was silently horrified and expected him to jump back up, but he didn’t. He settled in on his back next to me and then let me arrange myself around him. I came to some awkward mixture of touching but not really touching him, lying on my back next to him with only the side of my arm lightly pressed against his. Once I stopped shifting around he looked at me questioningly.  
  
“Is that really what you want?” he asked.  
  
Of course it wasn’t but I wasn’t ready to make any assumptions about what would be ok so I sort of shrugged and grunted. He rolled his eyes and sighed then snaked his arm under my shoulders and gently pulled me to him, my head resting on his bare chest. I had to make sure and keep my hips rocked back away from him because I was starting to get hard and there was no way I was going to let that press against his thigh.  
  
“Relax John. We won’t do anything you don’t want to or are not ready for. I want only to lie here with you and hold you close and let you sleep peacefully tonight.” And then he kissed my forehead. The warmth of his lips was almost searing and left a warm spot behind. The feel of his skin under my face was brilliant. He was warm and soft and the little hairs on his chest tickled my nose and made me smile and again I thought god what a man. And suddenly I needed more. I reached up and pulled his face to mine and kissed his lips softly.  
  
“OK?”, I asked.  
  
“So much better than ok,” he breathed heavily and leaned over me to kiss me more deeply. His chest was now pressed to mine and my heart was about to leap out of its place. “Tell me what you want John. Please. I’ll do anything.”  
  
And there it was. There was my chance to express what I wanted. How though? I wasn’t sure how to say it. To make it clear that I wanted him to have me. I knew he was a virgin and I wanted to be his first. If I told him I wanted to make love to him he would assume that meant I wanted to be the penetrative partner. And so, I made it just as ridiculously simple as I possibly could, romance be damned.  
  
“I want you to fuck me.”  
  
Sherlock froze in place. It reminded me of the time I asked him to be my best man. He seriously froze for several seconds. He was still breathing but he was gone somewhere. Maybe to his mind palace, maybe to his safe place. This was sex we were talking about, after all.  
  
“Sherlock?” I touched his shoulder. “Sherlock, I’m sorry. I take it back. Never mind about that. Let’s go back to you holding me.  
  
“You want me to…fuck you? Really? I mean, you don’t want to fuck me? I assumed you would want to fuck me. I researched how to do that well for you. How to be fucked well by you. I have everything we need in my room but I have no idea how to fuck you.”  
  
I was completely stunned. “Hang on,” I said, sitting up, “what do you mean you researched it. When? We only just discussed our feelings today. How could you have had time to research anything that quickly? And have everything we need, whatever that means?”  
  
He sat up so he could see my face and said, “John, I told you earlier that I have loved you since almost the first moment we met. Do you really think I haven’t thought about this moment a thousand times? That I haven’t pictured this in a thousand different ways and in a thousand different places. But every single one of those times I was the one being fucked, not the other way around. Honestly, I never considered myself gay or straight. I just am. I’m about the work, you know that, so I don’t have a preference, yet anyway. But because you are very very straight, I assumed if we ever came to this place you would want to take that role.”  
  
I was starting to feel like he was going to refuse me outright and I lowered my eyes. It went without question that I would love to fuck him but I had been really turned on thinking I would be his first. And just when I was about to give up and relent I felt his fingers in my hair and his hot breath on my ear.  
  
“I would love to fuck you…” he whispered, “later. First, I want to make love to you.” His voice had dropped into that deep, sultry tone that he gets when he’s quiet and serious and when he whispered in my ear I felt electricity shoot all the way through my body. I was hard as a rock now and there was no hiding it at all and I wasn’t even trying any more. His lips found my ear and kissed, and then moved to my jawline. He trailed wet kisses all the way down my neck to my collarbone and then back up. He took my hand in his and kissed the tips of every finger and then pressed my palm to his face and closed his eyes. It was such a loving gesture, I thought my heart would break. Then instead of letting go, he guided my hand to his chest. “Will you touch me, please?” he asked softly.  
  
“Oh god, yes,” I breathed loudly and allowed my hands to roam over his chest. I ran my fingers up into his hair and pulled, not too hard, so that he gave a small grunt and tipped his head back for me. I took the opportunity to trace his Adam’s apple with my tongue and kiss along his jawline. His skin was warm, and salty, and smelled lightly of soap. He must have cleaned up after saying goodnight earlier. I trailed my tongue down his throat and planted a kiss on his collar bone then I got brave and moved my lips to his nipple. It was such a perfect little nub of a thing and it felt so good under my tongue. I rubbed it with my tongue a few times then clamped down on it and sucked. Hard. Sherlock gasped and I thought I’d hurt him so I started to pull away but he put his hand on the back of my head and held me there. I sucked for a while longer then allowed my teeth to graze the very tip. His whole body shivered and I smiled to myself. It was going to be incredible watching him experience everything for the first time.  
  
Then he was pushing me back onto the bed, skin flushed and hot to the touch. His breathing had increased and his pupils were blown open with desire. As long as I live I will never forget what that looked like. That very first time he was like an angel on fire and all I could do was be awed by his beauty. As he lay me back he climbed onto his knees and for the first time I could see his erection under his pajama bottoms. It looked enormous and for just a second I was more than a little scared of trying to take it all in. I knew he would never physically hurt me though, so I pushed that thought away to concentrate on what he was doing.  
  
He sat on his knees next to me and very lightly trailed his fingers around my nipples and across my chest. His touch raised goose bumps all over my body and my already erect cock became stiffer still. He bent over me to kiss my chest and nipples and, while his hips were raised, I reached over and started working the waist band of his bottoms down over his hips. I had waited long enough and was almost desperate to see his whole body. When I finally worked the waistband down onto his thighs his erection sprang free. I thought it was the most beautiful cock I’d ever seen, then had to chuckle to myself because I don’t think I’d ever thought of any penis as beautiful, or even slightly attractive, before. Sherlock’s was truly a sight though. He was uncut and he really was quite large. I stopped to just look at him for a moment and then, without thinking, I reached out and traced the veins that were running along his length. After a few moments, I wrapped my hand around him. He sucked in air, his body stiffened, and he covered my hand with his. I thought he wanted me to stop so I loosened my grip. He shook his head sharply, letting me know that was not what he wanted and then started to guide my hand slowly up and down his length. One stroke, then a second, on the third his whole body spasmed and he stopped the movement. For a few heartbeats, he withdrew himself, just closed himself off from me and left me alone there in the bed. But then he opened his eyes and looked at me.  
  
“Sorry, got too close for a second. I learned a technique to pull back from the edge but it requires a moment of withdrawal. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do that but apparently being touched by someone other than myself for the first time does make a bit of difference in control.” And then he smiled at me. It was the most devilishly delicious smile I had ever seen and I could not stop myself from smiling back.  
  
I gave him one more slow stroke before letting him go and then arranged the pillows so I could settle back onto the bed in a semi-sitting position.  
  
“Sherlock, you said you had everything we needed for this. Since there seems to be a break in the action, for lack of a better description (I blushed at this point), do you think now would be a good time to go get whatever it is,” I asked.  
  
“Right! Yes…,” he said and moved to get off the bed but then hesitated. “Erm…John? We should probably chat about protection. I mean, I know as a doctor you test yourself regularly and are clean, and being a virgin you would think I would be safe but with the IV drug use… Well, I wouldn’t be offended if you would like me to use something.”  
  
The look of concern on his face when he asked that question was so pure and so deep. God, how could he be so sweet? Where had this Sherlock been hiding all these years? “Sherlock,”, I answered, “you keep saying I know you but I don’t think you’ve realized just how well. I know that when you use you use only clean needles. That you never ever share. I also know that you have yourself tested after every episode, and every 6 months just on general principle. I also know that you made absolutely sure they tested you for everything under the sun before you left the hospital. I would prefer to not have anything between us but if it would make you more comfortable we certainly can use something.” He smiled and jumped off the bed and padded out of the room.  
  
A few moments later he re-entered with his hands full of bottles and other things. He sat next to me on the bed and spread everything out so we could look at them together. He really was prepared for this. He had several different kinds of lube, a couple of odd looking “toys”, and 2 new, freshly laundered flannels for cleaning up after. A thrill passed through me when I realized there were no condoms. He started to explain the research he’d done on the lubes and why he had bought so many different kinds and I had to laugh. Always the detective.  
  
“Sherlock?”  
  
“Yes, John?”  
  
“I miss the taste of your lips. Would you be so kind as to bring them back over here please?”  
  
He looked down at the collection of things on the bed, quickly chose a lube at random, then raked everything else into the drawer in the bedside table and joined me on the pillows. Suddenly he looked very shy and I remembered again that not only was he a virgin but he’d never even been touched by anyone else. I couldn’t imagine what that must be like. “We’ll take it as slow as you want,” I said soothingly. That sweet smile of his played on his lips for an instant and then he was kissing me again. Hot, hungry, needy kisses that took my breath away. Perhaps slow wasn’t what he needed after all.  
  
As we kissed I ran my hands over his chest and shoulders and then down his arms. When I got to his forearm I felt the track marks left there by god only knows how many needles, and Sherlock gasped and jerked away, looking down.  
  
“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” I asked.  
  
“No, not at all. It’s just…it’s just I don’t like to think what I must have looked like to you and when you touched the marks I was afraid you would be disgusted with me all over again. I’m sorry I pulled away, it was just reflex,” he answered.  
  
“Sherlock, don’t be stupid. I know why you let yourself go to that place. I know it was a plan to save me. Don’t you see that only makes me love you all the more. Don’t you think I can look back over the course of our relationship and see all the crazy ways you’ve put your life on the line for me? Sacrificing yourself for my happiness even when that happiness wasn’t with you? Can’t you see I’ve been the bloody blind fool that missed what was right in front of me all these years?  
  
A tear slid down Sherlock’s cheek and I kissed it away, then I lifted that poor bruised, track-marked arm and I kissed every mark he had so he would know without doubt that I loved him just the way he was. Eventually I found his lips again and we wound ourselves tightly around each other.  
  
The insistence of his tongue was maddening. I was so aroused I was dripping pre-cum and he hadn’t even touched me there yet. I had never had anyone turn me on as powerfully as Sherlock and I felt myself begin to tremble with need. If I didn’t have him soon I would most definitely lose my mind.  
  
“Sherlock,” I panted, “would you be willing to try something?”  
  
“Anything. Yes, of course. Tell me what you want”  
  
“I want to taste you. Would that be ok”, I asked hopefully.  
  
He hesitated but only for a moment. “Yes, I think I would like that very much,” he answered. “How?”  
  
“I’ll show you. Come here please,” and I laid back with my head propped up on the pillows. He allowed me to guide him to straddle my chest so he could kneel in front of my face so that I could take him in my mouth. I almost felt sorry for him because he looked fairly terrified but I didn’t stop. We both wanted this and the only way to get past the fear we both felt was to keep moving forward.  
  
I wrapped my arms around his hips and pulled him towards me. He moved a little stiffly but did not resist. I placed soft kisses on one hip and then the other and then sprinkled kisses across his lower abdomen and down his happy trail. He smelled amazing. There was definitely something different in the smell down here. It was warm and musky and it made my head feel like it was full of cotton. It was absolutely intoxicating. I kissed the crease of his legs and then worked towards the middle. After a slight pause just to prepare the very straight John Watson in my head for something of which there was no undoing, I gently kissed a testicle. Sherlock gasped loudly and his hips gave a small jerk but then he moaned, “Oh yes, do that. Exactly that”. So I sucked the loose skin into mouth and massaged with my tongue. As I sucked I stroked his cock with my hand again and was rewarded with another buck of his hips.  
  
After what seemed like way to short a time Sherlock said, “John, please stop. It’s too good. It’s too good and I don’t want to finish like this.” Reluctantly I let him slip out of my mouth but I wasn’t quite done with him yet. He knew and tried to move his hips away but I held him tightly with my arms while I ran my tongue from the base of his cock all the way to the tip and then swirled around the head. His body convulsed hard and he said, “Oh, fuck John!” and I thought I would die right there. He was clinging to the headboard for support and panting for air when I finally let go of his hips.  
  
“If I had known it would feel like that I never would have waited until now to try it,” he said, looking sheepishly at me. “Although I wouldn’t trade you being my first for anything in the world.” And then there was that radiant smile again. God I loved it when he smiled at me…  
  
“Sherlock, you tell me what you want. You’ve done nothing but worry about pleasing me, I want to please you more than anything.”  
  
He didn’t speak a word. He just looked at my body like it was the first time he was really seeing it, then he took my throbbing cock in his long fingers. His hands were surprisingly soft but his grip was firm and perfect. Before I knew it, I had my head thrown back, gasping for air, while he stroked me expertly. “How…how do you know how to do that?”, I panted.  
  
“Shut up John, we’ll talk later, I’m busy enjoying you just now,” he answered.  
  
And then it was my turn to stop him. I hadn’t cum from just a hand job in years but damn if this man wasn’t about to make me explode all over the place. “Sherlock, I can’t… please stop. I want you. I want you inside me when I cum.”  
  
He obliged but he wasn’t finished with me. He reached for the lube he had chosen and opened it.  
  
“Are you ready?” he asked with mixed concern and desire on his face. I nodded that I was and he squeezed out a big glob of clear gel. “I’ve done quite a bit of reading on this subject to prepare for this night, just in case. I’m assuming you haven’t ever done anything like this before?” I shook my head no. “Before I can make love to you, so that I don’t hurt you, I need to get you ready. I brought some things that would accomplish that but if you don’t mind, I would much rather use my fingers so I can feel you. Is that ok?”  
  
Get me ready? Fingers? I definitely had not thought this all the way through. I think I even started to panic just a bit but then Sherlock put his hand on leg and it steadied me. This was Sherlock and I trusted him.  
  
“Yes, use your fingers. I don’t want anything but you.”  
  
“I think it will be easier for you if you turn over, at least at first. I want to look in your eyes when I make love to you but getting you ready will be easier if you put your arse in the air for me.”  
  
I did as instructed but it felt so weird. Being completely naked with my arse in the air made me feel so vulnerable but Sherlock spoke soft, soothing words to me and I relaxed. I was surprised by something wet then realized he had a wet wipe to clean me with. Being wiped there by another person was very strange but, with Sherlock, it was good.  
  
“John, hold on, I’m going to try something,” he said. He didn’t even wait for a response. All at once I felt his hand on my cock and his tongue on my arsehole. He stroked me a couple of times while his tongue played around my opening. I had never felt anything even remotely like it and it was almost too much pleasure. He moved down towards my testicles and he took them both in his mouth and sucked hard. By the time he let them drop out of his mouth I was seeing stars. I was so aroused I could feel every molecule of my body while at the same time feeling like I didn’t have a body at all. Like I was floating in space where there was nothing but Sherlock and me and what he was doing to me.  
  
And then it happened. While I was still so high he slipped 1 lubed finger inside me. My hips gave a hard jerk but not away from Sherlock; towards him. His finger sank deeper into me and I moaned loudly. It was exquisite in its mixture of intense pleasure and almost pain. After what seemed like a long time he began to move the finger in and out slowly. Just the thought of Sherlock fucking me with a finger almost sent me right over the top. Just before I reached the point of no return he changed the rhythm of thrusting and I was able to back away from the edge. Then he let me know he was adding a second finger. The muscle there definitely resisted the second finger more than it had the first so Sherlock started very slowly, rocking his fingers up and down, back and forth. After several minutes, he added a third finger.  
  
“I’m going to avoid your prostate on purpose for now,” he said. “You’re so close to the edge I think if I rubbed over it, it would finish you and I’m not ready for that yet. I think I did enough reading to know how to stimulate you there once I’m inside you.”  
  
My eyes rolled back into my head just thinking about it. “Sherlock, if you don’t do it soon I’m going to explode right here in this bed. I want you and I think I’m ready, make love to me now.”  
  
He carefully withdrew his fingers and helped me turn over on my back. His eyes were glazed over with desire and he was panting as hard as I. There was sweat glistening on his skin and again, it made him appear as if he was glowing. He had me put a pillow under my hips then he shifted himself so the he was between my knees.  
  
“Put your legs around my hips John, it will help us get the correct angle.”  
  
I didn’t hesitate. I put my legs over his and pulled his hips to me so that I could get them all the way around him. He felt so good there, pressed against the backs of my legs. So right.  
  
He applied a liberal amount of lube to his cock and pressed a little more into me and then he leaned over me and placed his left hand on the bed for balance then used his right hand to guide himself into me. I felt the soft tip of his penis push into me and I gasped hard. Sherlock stopped, scared he’d hurt me. He looked up at me and I assured him with a nod that I was ok. It was just, well…fingers are not the same as a man’s cock. Not by a long shot. I had been surprised, that was all.  
  
As he very slowly pushed into me, I watched his lovely face. He was concentrating so hard on not hurting me it almost looked like he was working on one of his experiments. I knew better though. Once he was in me all the way and sure I was ok, he was going to have trouble controlling the finish. It was his first time and, despite what some people thought, he was just a man. There are certain facts of life that very few people can avoid.  
  
“Sherlock, can you look at me for a moment?” I said gently. He looked up and found my eyes. “Promise me something, please. When you get all the way in and you start to move inside me, don’t do that technique to slow things down. This isn’t about getting off, not for me. It’s about being with you. It’s about being yours and you being mine. I want you present, here, with me. I don’t care if you last 5 seconds or 35 minutes, please, don’t leave me again like you did earlier.  
  
My stomach flipped when he said, “I promise, I will stay here with you forever.”  
  
It only took a couple more minutes for him to slide inside me all the way to the base of his cock. It was such an odd feeling, almost like I needed to excuse myself to the restroom, but it was incredible at the same time. To be so full of him was beyond explanation. He bent over me and kissed my deeply as he started to rock his hips and stroke my cock. God, how did he know how to move like that? Surely, he didn’t learn it from books. I don’t even think he could have learned it from porn videos because he wasn’t fucking me, he was making love to me. He had said that was what he wanted to do and he did truly know the difference. And in true Sherlock style, he lasted much longer than I had expected while keeping his promise to never leave me alone.  
  
After what seemed like hours he let me know that he was getting close to cumming and shifted his hips just a bit. He was definitely correct about the prostate. Almost the instant the head of his penis grazed it, lights exploded behind my eyes. My back arched up off the bed and I cried out louder than I think I ever had before. I grabbed onto Sherlock and dug my nails into his back. I came harder than I ever had in my life and we were both covered in wetness from it.  
  
I was coming down from my orgasm just as Sherlock began to drive his own so I was able to watch his face as he came. It was stunning. He crashed into me over and over and just as it washed over him he called out my name, then threw back his head and filled me. When it was finished, he was still holding himself up over me but his head was hanging limp just above my face. I craned my neck and kissed him several times as the aftershocks or his orgasm sent spasms through his body. Each one caused him to thrust into me a little deeper. Then he collapsed onto my chest and rolled us onto our sides together.  
  
Neither of us were in a hurry to clean up or move at all. This moment; this exact moment; was years in the making and neither of us wanted it to end. We held each other tightly for a long while, whispering our love to one another, kissing softly. Finally, in the wee hours of morning we agreed we should get some sleep before Mrs. Hudson brought Rosie upstairs. I turned my back to Sherlock and he fitted himself around my curves and lazily threw a long arm over me and pulled me close to him. It was such a wonderfully comforting warmth to be there in his arms, I knew I wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping the rest of the night.  
  
“Good night, Sherlock,” I said.  
  
“Good night my love,” he answered.  
  
And just as I started to fade off to sleep a small movement in the corner of the room caught my eye. It was Mary. Mary had come one last time to give me two thumbs up and a loving smile. I silently mouthed the words I love you to her and she blew me a kiss. Just as she started to fade away Sherlock stirred and said, “Tell Mary I love her too,” then kissed my ear and went back to sleep.


End file.
